The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

“How do you know?” Remy asked.

“I helped train him.”

“You what?” Remy said.

“His owner sold him to Elliott, and Elliott brought him to the ranch for retraining.”

“From what?” Ensley asked.

“He was a racehorse, and his career was over. The owner didn’t want the upkeep, so he was getting rid of him.”

“Why’d Elliott want a used-up racehorse?”

“He started the Colorado ranch a few years ago and turned it into a haven for former racehorses to keep them from being neglected. We have twenty-five right now.”

“I didn’t know former racehorses were neglected.”

“Yeah. It’s a problem. The 1986 Derby winner Ferdinand’s life ended in a Japanese slaughterhouse, and they used his carcass to make pet food.”

“A Derby winner. Are you serious?” Her stomach roiled. “That’s disgusting.”

“Elliott didn’t want that to ever happen to another racehorse.”

“Ferdiad doesn’t look old or broken down.”

“He came to the ranch with mild lameness and a gastric ulcer. Elliott treated him, and I took a liking to him. We were both broken, I guess. I started working with him, and when Tavis met him, it was a match made in horse heaven.”

“Why didn’t you keep him?” she asked.

“I have several horses, and Ferdiad needed an owner who would ride him a lot. Marengo doesn’t care if I ever get on his back. Do you, boy?” Austin said, patting the horse’s neck.

“I thought you were only interested in horsepower. Varoom.” Remy played his fingers like drumsticks, tapping the horse’s head as if it were a crash cymbal.

“That’s not me. That’s you,” Austin said. “How many cars you got? Four?”

“Not as many as you,” Remy said.

Ensley watched the two men bickering back and forth and honestly couldn’t tell if they even liked each other. “Do you two hate each other, or what?” she asked.

Remy glowered down his nose at Austin, then turned toward Ensley. “After his accident, I was his private nurse for six months, wiping his ass. But when he could do it for himself, he kicked me out and wouldn’t even take my calls.”

Austin shrugged. “Because you bugged the hell out of me.”

Ensley lifted her hat with both hands and slammed it back on top of her head. “You’re both bugging the hell out of me. So just shut up!” She closed her eyes for an instant, breathing slowly.

“What’d I do?” Remy asked. “I thought I was funny.”

When she was calm again, she opened her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “If you want me to think you’re funny, don’t tell me you’re funny. Tell me a frigging joke.” Several moments passed as the two just stared at each other, then Remy burst out laughing.

“Tell you a fucking joke? That’s what you want? Okay, here’s one.” He drummed his fingers again. “Two career swabbies were sitting at a bar. One of them says, ‘Look at those two dunks across the bar. That could be us in ten years.’ The other guy says, ‘You asshole, that’s a mirror.’”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not funny.” She mounted Ferdiad, keeping her head down so he wouldn’t see that she was about to laugh, too. “There’s someone for everyone, and the perfect person for both of you is a psychiatrist.”

“A joke. She told a joke.” Remy burst out laughing again. “A psychiatrist. Now that’s funny.”

“I hope you find one soon.” And with that, Ensley took off at a gallop, riding Tavis’s black stallion across the Badlands.

44

The Badlands (1885)—Ensley

Ensley rode alongside the wagon, talking to Norman while Remy and Austin trailed behind them. Then they disappeared and returned an hour or so later with four rabbits and a white-tailed deer slung over the back of Austin’s horse—already field dressed.

Damn. That’s impressive. How’d they do that so quickly?

“Looks like we’re havin’ rabbit stew and deer steaks fer dinner,” Norman said. “The rest of the deer, I’ll smoke it into dry meat fer the men to carry in their saddlebags fer snacks.”

“And me,” she said.

“I was hoping ya’d stay in camp.”

She gave him an arch look. “Come on, Norman. I can’t get much research done if I stay put.”

He slapped the reins and ignored her for a moment and then said, “It’d be safer.”

“I know you think so, but—”

“Miss Ensley,” he interrupted. “Ya don’t need to be out there wit’ them cowboys. Ya need to be with yer husband and startin’ yer family.”

Norman sounded so concerned it made her lies feel like lead weights around her conscience. She couldn’t be candid with him, so she had to tell him another lie. “Here’s the thing, Norman. I can’t have children. I fell off too many broncs years ago, and it messed me up. So you see, my work is a substitute for a family.”

He snapped the reins again. “Don’t matter none. Ya still should be wit’ yer husband.”

And that ended their conversation.

She uncapped her canteen and took a long drink, then capped it again. When she did, she bumped the blister on her palm. Hard.

Damn, that hurts.

She yanked off her gloves and cringed when she saw the quarter-size blister that needed cleaning and an antibiotic ointment. She almost asked Norman if he had a remedy in his medical box, but she wasn’t sure she could trust his treatments.

Maybe Remy had something.

And then she remembered the piece of red linen she found in the hem of her jeans. She slipped her fingers inside her bra and pulled it out. If he wrapped her foot in his cloak and it healed, maybe it would do the same for a blister.

As soon as the piece of linen touched the open wound, her hand warmed and tingled. She put her glove back on and didn’t give it another thought.

They reached the meetup point at sundown, and Norman drove the wagon into a grove of cottonwoods near the river and set up camp while Ensley went looking for TR. She found him with a group of men gathered around a fire, telling stories and smoking. When he spotted her, he left